


Broken Like Me

by pann_cake



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 22:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pann_cake/pseuds/pann_cake
Summary: “Sit down,” Dean tells him, and Seth still hasn’t said a word. He's still breathing heavy, a bruise blossoming on his temple where Sheamus’s boot had connected right before the pin. He's practically trembling with energy, Dean can see it in him. He recognizes it, because that's how Dean feels the majority of the time after a fight. That buzzing under the skin that won’t quit until you let it out. Seeing it in Seth is something new, the role reversal of having to be the calm one wasn’t something Dean expected. But, here they were.





	Broken Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written after RAW 11/6, to fix things. The title is from [Broken, by lovelytheband](https://youtu.be/fI18dh3Kh9I%20), which always makes me think of Ambrollins. <33 Listen to it!

Dean is still in shock, but Seth is _furious_. After The New Day left the arena, and The Bar left with their belts, Seth had stormed backstage with Dean hot on his heels. The rest of the roster knew to leave them alone, so when the door to the locker room slammed behind them, no one followed. Dean had to turn away from Seth, watching him pacing was just putting him on edge, so he turned and ran his hands roughly through his hair, lacing his fingers at the back of his head.

Then he hears a loud bang, then another one, and Dean turns to find Seth punching the lockers. “Hey!” Dean calls out, going over to him. “You’re gonna need that fist, man.” Seth looks at him, fire in his eyes, and it makes Dean pause.

He’s seen similar looks in Seth’s eyes before, he’d been on the receiving end of his anger too many times to count. But Dean had never seen it like this. Seth isn’t just pissed off that they lost their titles, Dean realizes how. He's hurting. 

“Sit down,” he tells him, and Seth still hasn’t said a word. He's still breathing heavy, a bruise blossoming on his temple where Sheamus’s boot had connected right before the pin. He's practically trembling with energy, Dean can see it in him. He recognizes it, because that's how Dean feels the majority of the time after a fight. That buzzing under the skin that won’t quit until you let it out. Seeing it in Seth is something new, the role reversal of having to be the calm one wasn’t something Dean expected. But, here they were. “Take a breath, man.”

Seth yanks his tactical vest off and chucks it to the floor, but after that he does what he was told. Letting out a long breath, he flops down onto the locker room bench and puts his head in his hands. Dean just looks down at him, his fingers twitching a little at his sides with the urge to touch, to comfort. But he doesn't know how Seth would react to that. Things are good between them now--better than ever, Dean has to admit. Getting everything out in the open had been painful, but it’d been what they needed to put it all behind them. And now, they're inseparable, but in some ways still finding their footing around each other. 

In the kind of mood Seth is in right now, would he shove Dean off? Would he blame him? He didn’t have to go for the chair, he could have stayed in the ring to have Seth’s back. There were a lot of things Dean could have done differently, instead of getting stuck at ringside, held back while Seth got pinned, while their titles were stolen from them. 

Before he can say anything, though, or even reach out to touch him, Seth finally speaks up. 

“I’m the one who wanted this,” he says, looking up at Dean, and his eyes look broken. Dean watches him rub at his fist, noticing how one of his wrist wraps was coming undone. “I wanted this, and I lost it. I’m sorry, man.”

It’s the _I’m sorry_ that finally breaks Dean out of his inertia. He gets it now. Without the titles, Seth doesn’t know what’s holding them together, what’s keeping Dean from kicking him to the curb and going out on his own again. 

Dean huffs, and Seth’s brow furrows but Dean plunges ahead anyway. He crouches down in front of the bench to be at Seth’s eye level, and he gingerly peels Seth’s injured hand away from where he’s fussing with it. Seth just watches him as Dean looks at his knuckles, red and sore from punching the metal lockers. Dean’s hands are still wrapped in black tape, but his touch is gentle. He casts his eyes up to meet Seth’s, feeling something tender between them, something unspoken, and it makes his heart beat a little faster. 

“Those belts ain’t nothing,” he murmurs, and Seth looks at him like he’s crazy. But before Seth can interrupt him, which Dean knows he wants to do, he goes on. “I mean, it _sucks_. Losing them, like _that_ , was fucking bullshit. But it’s not _your_ fault. We both dropped the ball, we let them distract us with the match still on. It’s not on you, so don’t shoulder a weight you don’t gotta.”

“Dean--”

“No, stop.” For once, Seth actually shuts his mouth. Dean grips his hand a little tighter with his thumb, then brings it up to his lips, gently pressing a kiss to Seth’s knuckles. “We’re gonna get our titles back,” he goes on. “They can’t beat us clean, and they know it. But we don’t _need_ ‘em. That’s not what’s holding us together anymore, man. We got _this_.” He gestures down to their clasped hands, watching for a moment as Seth turns his hand and twines their fingers together. “I ain’t going nowhere.”

Seth nods, speechless in a way Dean has never seen him before, and it brings a little smirk to Dean’s face. It lightens the mood, and drags a little smile to Seth’s lips, too. Dean is grateful for that sight, because he hates seeing Seth upset. He’s not sure when exactly that became his reality, but it is, now. In fact, it’s everything. 

“We’re in this together,” Seth agrees, his voice low and soft. 

“Fuck yeah, we are.” 

It brings a chuckle out of Seth, and Dean can practically feel it through their linked hands, wishing he could feel it against Seth’s chest, feel that warm reverberation of Seth’s laugh against his own skin. The thought distracts him, so Seth’s gentle touch to his face nearly makes him jump. Seth doesn’t pull away though, his fingers carding lightly through the scruff of Dean’s beard along his jawline. 

It’s one movement. Seth tugs him in as Dean moves up off his heels towards him, and their mouths meet. Dean’s free hand reaches to clutch at the fabric of Seth’s shirt, and Seth’s hand slides around to cradle the back of Dean’s head and keep him close. They pant between kisses, stealing each other’s breath but neither willing to stop, caught in the riptide. Now that they’ve started, Dean doesn’t think he’s ever going to want to stop. 

So a few moments later, when Seth pulls back just a bit, a little whine escapes Dean’s throat and Seth _grins_. Dean would think he’s being insufferable, if he wasn’t so relieved to see that grin again, to be the one that put it there. 

“Let’s get outta here,” Seth murmurs, a breath away from his lips. 

Dean nods and immediately gets up, pulling Seth up off the bench, their hands still linked. He swipes Seth’s vest up off the floor and slings it over his shoulder. When they open the door out into the hallway, their hands fall apart, but Seth keeps bumping him with his hip as they walk, that stupid grin still on his face. 

They get some strange looks--to everyone else, there’s no reason for the newly-former tag champs to be smiling like that. But Dean doesn’t care, they can stare all they want. Nothing’s stopping the two of them now.


End file.
